


Plain and Simple Barista

by ensign_schlo



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cultural Differences, Friends to Lovers, M/M, the station loves gossip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensign_schlo/pseuds/ensign_schlo
Summary: What would the station have been like if Garak had decided to open a coffee shop instead? We all know that the replicators can't do tea or coffee as much justice as our scaly barista, Elim Garak.Just a little coffee shop au.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Once the idea popped into my head I had to start writing it. I didn't want to change much other than Garak's occupation, which changes several things. I would love pointers seeing as this is only my second ST story.

When Garak first arrived on Terok Nor – he heard the name would be changed to Deep Space Nine – he had to figure out what his profession would be since he highly doubted that there would be much call for a gardener or spy. Especially considering the fact that he was soon to be surrounded by people who mistrusted and despised him. He sat in Quark’s looking into his mug of the most pitiful excuse for Tarkalean tea this side of the quadrant. Replicators were remarkable pieces of technology, but they did usually leave something to be desired. I mean, what could possibly be so hard about steeping tea the correct way?

He tried to focus on his occupational options in order to ignore the nasty glares that he received from both the embarking Cardassians and the Bajorans clambering out of the shuttles funneling onto the Promenade. He was stuck between the two groups, groups who used to fear and respect him. The short bar owner – a Ferengi – strode over to where Garak was sitting.

“Are you going to be nursing that all day? I would rather you not waste space for other customers.” The Ferengi was being annoyingly optimistic, Garak thought as he had already taken account of the mostly empty bar. Garak gave him a tight-lipped smile, slightly tilting his head to the side adding a hint of a threat. The small man coughed and raised his hands in a defensive posture.  
“Not that you are a waste – could I get you anything else? If you do need anything, just call for me, Quark.” With that the large-eared guy scurried away to the other side of the bar. As Garak watched the Ferengi practically sprint across the room he took another sip of his tea and choked. 

“Oh for the love of Cardassi!” He pushed roughly from the bar, causing the stool to make an awful screeching sound underneath him. Garak fumed as he stomped out of Quark’s to his quarters in the habitat ring. The whole trek he cursed and grumbled. What kind of ‘tea’ was that? Is THAT what people are expected to drink on this blasted station? 

Garak could not, and would not, let that happen! The next day Garak began making preparations for his new shop.


	2. The Daily Grind

Garak finally had a chance to take a breather behind the counter. As to be expected, the morning was always his busiest, but then during the rest of the day a few people may sit at one of the tables scattered throughout the room. The rare few who did choose to stay typically sat closest to the door, away from the Cardassian store owner, and always accompanied by at least one other person. Cardassians were not the most popular species in the galaxy, but the Bajorans, especially, avoided his shop. He hated to admit it, but he had the Federation to thank for his business not failing. 

There had been a little over a month between the end of the Occupation, when the Bajorans took over this station, and when the Federation stepped onto the stage. Garak had taken that time to set up his coffee shop and make connections with his sellers. While working with tradesmen was no walk in the park, at least it was still within his comfort zone. He knew what to say to get the best deals on the highest quality ingredients. Hell, he would have made any Ferengi proud with his skill! 

But then came the customers themselves. 

He had been open for a week or so before the Federation appeared and his business was not doing so hot. The Bajorans of this station were less than thrilled with him and his species, let alone willing to spend their newly acquired funds to buy drinks and pastries from one. Garak is certainly a smooth talker, but no matter how sweet the message may be, when it came from someone who bore a resemblance to your recent captors it becomes harder to swallow what they are trying to sell. 

It was about 9 am – or 0900 – on a Tuesday and he was perched on the stool surrounded by all of his elaborate espresso, coffee, and tea machines and trappings. It may have looked like he was spacing out, but he was occupying himself with one of his preferred past-times: people watching. Even though the Federation had been here for a little while, there were still new people being shipped to the station on practically a daily basis. From his shop on the Promenade he had the ideal location for making observations on the fresh recruits. 

Not only was the Federation shipping customers right to his door step, but they opened up the station for travelers and merchants. Two groups of people who were barred from the station during the Occupation and introduced people who didn’t have any personal grudge against the Cardassian. 

There was a steady stream of people boarding the station about every other hour and that was, sadly, becoming the bored barista’s favorite part of the day. Most of the people arriving now were non-Federation. Garak had noticed that most of the Federation ships dropped by in the morning or late in the night.

On one of these early morning officer deliveries, Garak watched from his normal perch, but his attention was focused on one young, skinny man. As soon as he had walked onto the Promenade that morning, Garak was interested in him. He looked too young to be stationed out here and he was clearly hiding how overwhelmed and frazzled he was behind too much excitement. 

Speak of the devil! There he was standing in the Promenade looking flustered. Garak liked to think that the young man had probably been stumbling around the large station all day just trying to figure out where he was. It may be a cruel attitude, but it never ceased to amuse him. Garak noticed the officer was turning a discerning eye towards the sign of his shop. The young man stood there for a minute before his long legs quickly took him out of Garak’s line of sight.

Not that Garak wanted to admit it, but this was a common occurrence for him. Many people take one look at his café before they hightailed it out of there. Granted, that doesn’t mean that he enjoyed the feeling of disappointment that inevitably followed. He sighed and pushed the annoyance aside in favor of working on closing up for a quick lunch. For once he was glad to see that no one had come in for a noonday caffeine fix. 

As Garak entered the replimat he was delighted to see that the young officer – was his name Bashir? – sitting at a table in the corner. Garak took a deep breath and plastered his most pleasant customer-service smile on his face before heading over to the officer. He snaked around the table behind the officer before calmly speaking.

“Doctor Julian Bashir, I presume?” He chuckled slightly. “Of course you are. The station has been buzzing about the arrival of our MD. How are you liking our station?” The Doctor had the look of a lone gettle separated from the pack being confronted. His eyes were wide in surprise and, maybe, fear. Garak simply remained smiling. 

“Er, yes, um, I mean I am settling in alright. This place is, um, bigger than I had thought it would be.” The doctor does not seem to be a most confident man. Very nervous in fact. It made Garak wonder, not for the first time, what the Federation is told about the station and it’s single Cardassian occupant.

“Oh I apologize, Doctor, I neglected to introduce myself. I am Garak the owner and sole employee of the coffee shop on the Promenade. I’m so glad to make a new acquaintance.” He calmly slid into the empty seat across from the Doctor. He did not miss the anxious look the young man gave him as he took the seat. 

“I have never heard of a Card – ummm – I never would have thought that someone like you would have a shop here of all places." He anxiously fidgeted and swatted at the flower sitting in the middle of the table. “I just mean that it must be awkward seeing as you’re the only Cardassian left on the station.” Garak let his expression get brighter and cheerier in faux surprise. 

“Ah, then you know of my situation. I would not expect the Federation to be concerned with a single man serving tea.” Doctor Bashir looked to the table for anything to change the subject. “Um, speaking of tea, would you care for some? Tarkalean tea? That’s what I have here.” The man was clearly grasping at straws. Garak had to fight off the beginnings of a genuine smile, preferring to keep his artificial pleasantries in place. Had it really been that long since someone had shown a shred of kindness to him that a mere kind, yet awkward, offer could affect him so profoundly? 

“My, what a nice young man to think of me, but I believe that I will have to pass.” While Garak was flattered to have been asked he still had to fight against a shudder at the thought of the replicated ‘tea.’ No amount of kindness would force his taste buds to suffer that again. Bashir ignored the fact that Garak had passed on the tea, turned and made a motion to get the attention of one of the busy attendants before turning back to the suspicious man across from him. When it was apparent that no one was going to come to their table Garak practically sighed in relief.

“Sorry about the tea.” There was an awkward silence with Bashir glancing around the room and Garak smiling. Apparently the Doctor was not a huge fan of silence. “It may surprise you to know that some people think that you may be here on the station to keep the Cardassian government up to speed on goings on.” This did not surprise Garak in the slightest, but in he was always a fan of being devious. He feigned a shocked look and went along with the other man.

“Now, Doctor, are you telling me that the mighty Federation has nothing better to do, but gossip about an old man like me? And the best that they can come up with is that I’m a spy of some sort? Now where would they get such an idea?” Garak smiled sweetly and tilted his head questioningly. Bashir squirmed in his seat. 

“I have no idea, Mr. Garak, where they would get that thought.”

“It’s good to know that not every officer has such an absurd view of me. Now if you will excuse me, but I should be getting back to my shop soon. If, however, you find yourself tire of the replicated tea here please feel free to stop by. I would greatly appreciate any stimulating company, such as yourself.” Perhaps Garak was enjoying the way that the doctor fidgeted or maybe it was simply nice to be looked upon with interest rather than hatred and that was why he so obviously reached out for him to visit. Either way, Garak found himself ever more intrigued by the Federation doctor.

“Ah, you are too kind, Mr. Garak.”

“Oh, it's just Garak. Plain, simple Garak.” He slowly stood from the seat and slyly made his way behind Bashir. “Now, I really must get going. But it was very nice to talk to such a clever young man.” He placed his hands on the doctor’s shoulders before slithering away leaving the doctor staring after him, confused.

After that, Garak opted for a short lunch at Quark’s before heading back for the cranky afternoon crowd.

\--

Garak poked his head around from one of his espresso machines when he heard the swooshing sound that accompanied the doors sliding open to see Doctor Julian Bashir stepping up to the counter. Currently he was glancing at the board to the far right– the tea menu – and therefore missed the sincere grin that flitted across the Cardassian barista’s face before he had a chance to compose himself. He quickly plastered on his normal kind-old-barista face in time for Bashir to turn towards him.

“I see that you have decided to take me up on my offer, Doctor.” Bashir shrugged slightly and nodded his head in the direction of the board.

“Well, you did have a point about the replimat serving barely passible tea. I’m glad to see that you have included Tarkalean tea in your impressively diverse selection.” Bashir had such an honest grin that almost knocked Garak over. How can this man – who only a few days or so ago was convinced that Garak was some nefarious alien spy – wear his emotions so readily? This baffled Garak to no end. There was no way that this man, who was second best in his graduating class at Starfleet medical school – of course Garak did research on the doctor – would be so naïve. Is this some trap to try to lull the station’s resident Cardassian into a sense of false security? He would have to keep an eye on this one. 

“Naturally, Doctor. I have made great strides to fairly represent the quadrant and Tarkalean tea is a most popular leaf. I honestly would be a fool not to have a regular shipment of it stored. I must admit that I may be a bit selfish in that I, too, enjoy a good cup of the tea.”

“You sure are a great salesman, Garak. I think I would like a cup of Tarkalean tea, um, extra sweet, if you could, please?” Garak blinked for a second, fighting off the urge to roll his eyes. Extra sweet? If he wanted to ruin his tea, then I suppose that’s his mistake to make. 

“Of course, Doctor.” Garak turned around to pull out the container with the Tarkalean leaves, expertly measured and piled them into an infuser before placing it into a to-go cup then poured the steaming water into the container. He set his little counter timer to three minutes and turned to face Bashir, who was now leaning across the counter to get a better look at the performance. 

“So, what was the inspiration for the name of the shop, Deep Space Brew? It seems kind of plain and simple for a man like you.” Bashir grinned at his little joke and Garak had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Garak took a step closer to the counter that held up the leaning doctor. He shrugged and clasped his hands together in front of his body. 

“You know what, you are the first person to ask me that.” He chuckled slightly which made Bashir smile in that delightful way again. “I had several other ideas, but I was concerned that if I went straight for something like Mirit Nor – while it would have sounded classier and would remind me of home – it would not have been popular among the inhabitants of the station. And word play based off of Federation history, such as Bean Me Up, would have been a hit with people such as yourself, but I would have been miserable with such a ridiculous pun looming over my head. That would have been too much punishment. Simply playing with the station’s new name seemed to be the safest bet.” Bashir seemed to be mulling over what Garak had said. 

“While I understand the Federation reference – and appreciate it – I’m afraid that I don’t know what Mirit Nor means or why it would be so offensive.” Bashir’s face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Ah. You must not have had to learn Kardasi before being stationed here, which makes sense seeing as we are not exactly the highest population here. Mirit nor literally translates to tea station. I thought it was a novel name, but quickly vetoed it, for obvious reasons.” Bashir nodded slightly in understanding, but before he could say anything else the timer made three short beeping sounds to signal that the tea was done steeping. Not wanting to ruin the first drink that Garak made for Bashir, he swiftly went to pull the strainer out of the cup and added the ‘extra sweet’ – two heaping scoops of sugar – and snapped a lid on the cup. He turned on his heels to hand the tea to the watching doctor. 

“And here is your tea, Doctor. I do hope that it will be to your liking.” Garak smiled and nodded toward Bashir. He observed the other man closely as he took a tentative sip. Bashir sighed and closed his eyes. When his eyelids fluttered back open he looked at Garak a little sheepishly, realizing that this may have appeared to be an odd reaction to the alien barista. 

“Ah, sorry about that, Garak. This is just the best tea that I have had since before I joined the Academy.”

“I find it odd that you never had time to have real tea while on Earth. At least the last I knew, the Starfleet Academy was in the United States on Earth where you should have real leaves readily available.”

“You are correct that the Academy is on Earth. Unfortunately, since I was in medical school I rarely had much free time, let alone time to sit down for a nice cup of tea. Of course what reason would a humble barista have for needing to know that?” Bashir gave Garak a teasing smile that shook straight down to Garak’s knees. Thankfully he was behind the counter and was able to hide the embarrassing reaction. 

“Well, Garak, as nice as this conversation has been I do need to get to work. I’m glad that I stopped by. I get the impression that my first late shift will benefit greatly from your caffeine boost. I’ll talk to you later!” Doctor Bashir began moving to the door as he was speaking until he waved and was gone out of Garak’s range of view. 

Garak plopped onto the stool behind the counter still staring at the door. If this is all some elaborate trap for the Cardassian, at this particular point the barista was thinking that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to be ensnared by this terran doctor. This certainly makes things more interesting than he had originally thought upon his arrival at the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tinsnip and Vyc for their extensive Kardasi language. I hope to incorporate more, but we will see. http://cardassianlanguage.tumblr.com/  
> Also, a gettle is an animal native to Cardassia (mentioned in TNG: Chain of Command, Part II).  
> Thanks to all of you who gave me encouragement and sorry for taking so long. I have several chapters written now, I just need to edit them a bit more.  
> Please continue to give me feedback! Also if I made a mistake let me know, I edited myself and we all know how well that can go.


	3. I have a Latte on My Mind

A few weeks or so after the Federation folks had settled on the station, business began to become more regular. In fact, he started to notice that there were some people who came almost every morning before their shifts. It was apparent that not many people were one-hundred percent comfortable with the presence of the Cardassian serving them their caffeine and snacks, but it was also noticeable that some people were beginning to – maybe not accept him – but grow accustomed to his presence. 

There were a few people who stood out in his mind. One of them was actually Mrs. Keiko O’Brian, who was a botanist. Being a botanist on a space station must be so boring. One day she broke their normal banter and that was what made her stand out in Garak’s mind. Normally they would just participate in, what some people would call, small talk and maybe a little bit of gossip – that was hard to avoid on this station anyways. But on this day she practically began talking before Garak could get a “good morning” out of his mouth.

“Mr. Garak what do you do with all of your organic waste, if I may ask?” She was clearly onto something, but poor Garak definitely was not on the same page as her.

“Uh, pardon?” In a rare instance, Garak allowed his confusion to show. “What do you mean by my organic waste?” Keiko appeared to see what he was so uncomfortable with and laughed.

“Oh dear! I’m so sorry, Mr. Garak. I suppose I should be more specific. What do you do with the organic waste from your shop? Like the used grounds, leaves, you know?” Garak furrowed his brows still unsure of where this woman was going with this line of questioning. 

“I simply throw them into the station trash.” Keiko frowned. Garak had not seen the woman this cranky before and finally began to understand some of the stories about her. She was gaining a reputation of being very strong-willed. Not that that was a problem with Garak, he just didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. “Why? Is that not the right thing to do?”

“Oh no, Mr. Garak, I didn’t mean to make you worried or nervous.” Then why did you practically give me a death glare? “I was just thinking that this station was a tad boring for someone in my field and so many people could use a relaxing place. I was going to transform the empty shuttle bay into a greenhouse for everyone on the station to enjoy!” She was so happy that it was hard for Garak not to smile a little bit. 

“That’s a very lovely idea, Mrs. O’Brien. However, I fail to see the connection between my coffee shop and your future greenhouse.”

“Oh yeah, right.” She waved a hand in the air. “I was brainstorming some of the logistics and realized that you have a wonderful source of compost for the plants.”

“Ah, you would like for me to stop wasting my organic trash in order to use it for the health of your plants? Is that correct?”

“Yup! That is exactly the idea. So what do you say?” Garak really had no reason to say no to the request. It’s not like this would hurt him or his business in any way. If anything it could help make him look better. It would appear that he was becoming a working member of the community and that may get more customers. 

“I don’t see why not. You have a deal, Mrs. O’Brien.” Keiko’s smile was so large it threatened to break her face. “Oh and if it is at all of interest to you, I was a gardener on Romulus for a short stint. If you need some additional assistance, I would more than likely remember enough of my training if you would need some extra hands.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Garak! That would be marvelous! Then, in that case, if we are going to be working together you can just call me Keiko.” 

“Well, then, Keiko, what would you like to order this morning?”

\--

As great a friend that Keiko was becoming, Garak had to admit that at the top of his list of favorite regulars was the young Doctor Julian Bashir. It was not because the man was there every day – he usually made a point of stopping by at least twice a week – but on those days that he dropped by they would have a brief, but enjoyable chat. After their first meeting in the replimat they have also had a few impromptu lunches together. 

This was the day that Garak decided that he would solidify at least one lunch a week. Throughout the conversations that they had shared Garak had taken note of the voracious inquisitiveness and intelligent mind that the Doctor possessed and he figured that playing to that strong suit could guarantee Garak a bit more entertainment. As well as the bonus of gaining more time with the young man. 

Garak closed up his shop and headed for the replimat – when he knew that Bashir was just about to sit down with his tray – and he gripped in his right hand a small data rod. If you knew nothing about Cardassians you would never have guessed that Garak was nervous. He carried himself in his usual fashion of harmless-barista, but today there was a hint of anxiety. As soon as he reached the entrance to the replimat he stopped for a brief moment to run his left hand through his hair, smoothing it down nicely, and then crossed the threshold. 

On the occasions when Garak had gone to surprise the doctor for lunch he would nonchalantly get in line, order, and not noticeably see the man until he waved Garak over to join him. Garak performed this little ritual and it went as well as if they had rehearsed it. 

“Hello there, Garak!” Bashir beamed up at him as he weaved through the other tables. “I always enjoy when we happen to have overlapping lunches.”

“You are too kind, Doctor.” As Garak approached the table he wiggled his shoulders slightly to make sure that his collar was perfectly accenting his ridges. He gracefully slid into the chair across from Bashir and set his tray on the table. “I hope you have had a tolerable day. I have not heard about anymore station-wide viruses so that, at least, must be pleasant?” 

“Thank goodness that was fixed. As annoying as that whole situation was it did remind me just how important language and communication is. As soon as it was gone, everyone was so flustered and seemed almost . . . lost.” Bashir furrowed his brows in a way that Garak was beginning to associate with deep thinking.

“Language is fascinating. It can give new meaning to cultures and societies, especially through mediums such as literature.” 

“Literature is my favorite way to learn about a new culture. It can show the values and beliefs of a society at a given time and it’s more interesting than reading a textbook or article.” Garak smirked. Through the weeks he was becoming more and more aware that the good doctor was not engaging with the Cardassian as a Federation spy, but rather a companion or friend. Times like these made the barista glad that he had found someone who was genuinely enjoying his company. 

“In that case, Doctor, I have something that you may appreciate.” Garak brought his right hand up from under the table and held out the data rod. “On this data rod I have one of the best novels Cardassia has to offer – The Never-ending Sacrifice.” Bashir looked surprised and cautiously lifted the data rod out of Garak’s outstretched hand. 

“I don’t know what to say, Garak. Er, I guess I could start with thank you. I will read this and get it back to you as soon as I can.” 

“If you had any questions or if you felt so inclined to have a discussion we could meet again for lunch in a week’s time?” There Garak put it out there! It had all gone according to plan. Bashir was silent long enough for fear to settle in Garak’s mind. Did Doctor Bashir regret playing along for so long? Is he trying to think of a way to kindly shake off the strange attachment that this old Cardassian barista was forming? 

“You know what, Garak? That would be wonderful! There is only so much that I would be able to understand and piece together by myself. I would think that your contribution would only deepen my understanding of the text.” Bashir stood and picked up his tray. “Unfortunately, I have to get back to my office. Maybe next week I could give you a work of terran literature, make it sort of an exchange?” 

“I just may have to take you up on that offer, my dear. I have found my knowledge of Earth novels to be lacking. Until next week, Doctor.” As Garak strolled back to his shop he had to fight the stupid urge he had to whistle in glee. While he was able to stave that off, he neglected to notice that Constable Odo had been keenly interested in the exchange that the Barista and Doctor had. 

\--

Garak was feeling particularly happy this afternoon. He had easily hacked into the temperature controls for his shop – seeing as they were the same as his room’s – and had been turning up the heat a little bit every day. He was trying to see how warm he could make it before people complained. The day that he had tried 85℉, for instance, he had several people walk in and almost instantly protest. Through the process of elimination, he had figured out which temperature he could get away with that was better for him and tolerable to his customers. It was certainly nothing like his own quarters, but it was noticeably better than the rest of the station. 

He sat on his stool behind the tiny counter and sighed – not for the first time that day – holding a steaming mug of Tarkalean tea between his hands when Constable Odo marched through the doors. 

“Ah, Constable! I thought that I would never see you in here. I get the impression that you are not overly fond of coffee or muffins.” Odo huffed in annoyance, as per usual, as he came to stand in front of the barista. Garak knew that the Constable was endlessly frustrated by the Cardassian – mainly for the fact that he was the sole occupant of his species left on the station – and for that reason he was usually looked upon as a suspect. Garak, knowing how annoying he was, put on his most innocent of faces to look up at Odo. “How may I help you, Constable?”

“I heard that you had been seen talking – at length – with Doctor Bashir. Not that you would tell me, but I wanted to ensure that these conversations have been completely innocent and not of a more nefarious nature.” 

Garak did always appreciate the Constable’s ability to simply cut through the crap and get to the issue. If Garak had a little less pride, he may have even tried to befriend the shapeshifter. But, alas, that particular trait was ingrained in his character. 

“Why, Constable, I can assure you that I have no idea what you could be hinting at. Doctor Bashir and I are simply discussing the intricacies of a well brewed cup of tea.”

“Fine.” Odo grunted and glared at the smiling alien before spinning on his heels to leave.

“It was lovely to see you, Constable.”

\--  
Garak had closed his shop for the day and was strolling through the Promenade. It had been a fine day even with the abnormal visit from Constable Odo and so he felt like relaxing. He noticed that Quark’s was oddly quiet and that the small bar owner was whispering with a few of the bar regulars. This was not unnatural as the guy was usually trying to make wagers or illegal trade deals without the Constable’s notice. 

However, Odo always found out. 

He walked up to the bar and sat down. The gang who had been excitedly whispering, silenced and turned to glance at the Cardassian. Whether it was that he had interrupted their gossip session or if it was because he was the object of their discussion, Garak was unsure. But he was really hoping that it was the first. 

“Ah, Mr. Garak, we usually don’t see you here this time of the week.” Quark tried to cover up their conversation by quickly coming over to where Garak sat. “What’s the occasion?”

“Oh nothing in particular, Quark. I simply had a nice day and wished to top it with a visit to the bar.” He glanced between Quark and the little group of people at the other end of the counter. “I do hope that I have not interrupted anything important?”

“Huh? Nah! I was just getting in on some of the latest gossip. Nothing big. Here, a glass of kanar on the hou- ummm, 10% off!” Quark passed a very small – smaller than usual – glass of the blue liquid towards Garak who silently accepted it, smiling at the Ferengi. 

Quark ran off to appear busy and left Garak to finally take note of the rest of the surrounding folks. Morn was sitting near the gossiping group – he may have been part of it? But either way, Garak was in no mood to get into an hour long chat with the man and desperately scanned the room for anyone else to talk to or at least a table to hide at. 

That’s when Garak’s heart leapt into his throat. Doctor Julian Bashir was over near the dart board and sipping at some golden-brown drink. Before his brain had time to shout at his legs to stop, he was walking past Morn heading straight for Bashir. However, as he was getting within earshot he noticed that the Doctor was not alone, but was playing darts with Miles O’Brien. He stopped in his tracks hoping to turn around and make a swift get away. 

“Garak?” Garak had managed to turn his back to the two, but at the sound of his name he shut his eyes in defeat before plastering a smile on his face and turning to greet Bashir and O’Brien. There was no better visual juxtaposition of emotions than the two humans currently standing in front of the Cardassian. Bashir very much had a giant, dorky grin of surprise and giddiness while Chief O’Brien looked like he had tasted something rather sour. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Garak.” Bashir moved towards Garak. With ever step that the young man made it seemed as though the Chief was frowning more and more.

“I was merely getting a drink after a pleasant day at work. It was very much a spur-of-the-moment situation.” 

“Oh that sounds nice. Miles and I were just playing a couple games of darts, if you would like to join?” Bashir looked at O’Brien and noticed the grimace glued on his face. “Er, that is, if Miles, you don’t mind?”  
“Hmph. . . I suppose that it wouldn’t really make much of a difference.” Garak watched as the Chief grabbed a hand full of sharp darts. 

“Uh I’m afraid that my skills do not reach darts.” Bashir must have sensed that he was trying to worm out of hanging out and gave him a pleading look. “However, I would not be against watching from the sidelines.” Bashir beamed at him and Garak instantly felt like a gooey, foolish, old lizard, but he really didn’t mind too terribly. He sat at the nearby table while Bashir came to stand next to him to chat. 

Every time that Bashir went up for his turn Garak and O’Brien would lock eyes and it was very apparent that the presence of the alien was not appreciated by everyone there. After the fourth time of this Garak let out his frustration in his most favorite of ways. 

“So, Chief, how is Keiko and Molly doing?” Bashir appeared to be happy that his friends were talking – completely unaware that Garak was trying to bother the Chief. O’Brien, however, did not miss it. 

“Why would you care, Garak?” He narrowed his eyes threateningly.

“Oh, it had been a few days since I last saw them and I was just wondering. I have quite a bit of organic waste for her to pick up after all.” 

“Oh! So now you expect her to clean up after you?” This was going about how Garak had planned and it made him smile at how predictable the Chief was. 

“Now Chief, I know that she has told you about our arrangement. I simply meant that I have held on to two days’ worth of waste for her to make into compost and is beginning to smell something fierce. That is all I meant.”

O’Brien turned away from the Cardassian, partially because it was his turn, but mostly he was annoyed with the older man. O’Brien mumbled something about wishing that the ‘Cardy’ hadn’t shown up as he got into position on the line in front of the board. 

“Why do you do that, Garak?” Bashir took his place back next to the barista. 

“I have no idea what you mean, Doctor. I was only asking about the health of the Chief’s family.” Bashir had clearly caught on by this point.

“You knew that you were pushing his buttons. You do this to everyone. Why? Not to sound harsh, but that’s probably why you don’t have too many friends on the station. People usually don’t enjoy being annoyed.”  
Garak blinked several times trying to come up with some sort of comeback, but nothing was forthcoming. Bashir rolled his eyes and went over to the board. Normally that kind of comment didn’t bother Garak, but this time it did. And that irritated him more than the actual remark. He stayed around for a little while more, chatting on and off with Bashir, before he excused himself to return to his quarters for the night. 

All of a sudden it seemed that he had a lot on his mind. 

\--

Miles fumed as he stomped into his quarters. 

“How was darts with Julian?” Keiko didn’t need to know Miles as well as she did to see that he was furious. “What happened to put you into such a foul mood, now?”

“I don’t understand why he hangs out with him! He is insufferable! Absolutely the worst!” Miles fell onto the couch and Keiko came to rub his shoulders.

“Who are we talking about?” 

“Julian and that- that Cardy.” Keiko immediately stopped rubbing his shoulders and came around to stand in front of Miles with her arms crossed.

“Excuse me?” Miles could see and hear that he was quickly getting into trouble. He looks at the couch thinking that he may be sleeping out here tonight, but then faces his wife.

“Like I said, I don’t get why Julian keeps hanging out with that scheming Cardassian. It’s just not right! He could be making better friends rather than alienating himself from everyone else on the station.” Keiko’s expression did not soften. 

“While that was sweet about Julian, you know that what you are saying about Mr. Garak is ugly. You should probably just get used to them hanging out. From the gossip that I have been hearing, they are getting along very well. Not to mention that I consider him one of my friends as well.”

“What do you mean with that comment about getting along very well?” Miles seemed to have completely ignored Keiko’s last sentence. 

“Well, it seems that Quark has been compiling all of the gossip about the two and, of course, is using that to his advantage. Anyways, what people have noticed is that Julian, who normally is in good spirits already, has been practically skipping around the station.” Miles made a disgusted face and stubbornly crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“So like I said, that slippery lizard has charmed the innocent Julian for his own criminal reasons. Just you wait and see!” Keiko’s frown deepened and she rolled her eyes.

“Well then, when we talk about Mr. Garak, he is much more skilled at hiding his emotions and feelings. Yet, several people have reported that lately his smile has been reaching his eyes and he almost does this little dance when he’s making the customers’ drinks. I heard that a lot of people have been going to his shop to see this with their own eyes’.” Keiko smiled at the thought of calm and collected Garak letting his emotions show on such a public level. 

“So what you’re telling me is . . .?” 

“I’m simply just putting two and two together. So is everyone else on the station.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always loved when Keiko called out Miles' stupid crap!
> 
> Thank you to Anon for the idea of Keiko taking his garden garbage for compost! I had wanted them to be friends somehow, but had yet to come up with something!
> 
> Thank you, again, to everyone who has commented on this silly story :) It motivated me to actually continue writing this. 
> 
> This continues to only be edited by myself so if there are any mistakes let me know or if you have any ideas that you think should be incorporated, I'm all ears!


	4. A Storm Brewing

The station’s Chief of Security, Constable Odo, didn’t trust many people, especially people like Quark or Garak. He preferred the solids who kept to themselves and caused no legal troubles on his station, however, there were plenty who ignored the Constable’s wishes. Not that he could really ever pin many things on the barista, he still knew that he was not as innocent as he portrayed himself to be. For example, a few weeks ago it came to his attention that Garak had started to have weekly lunch meetings with the station’s head MD, Doctor Julian Bashir. It was especially hard to miss when everyone on the station was whispering about it.

He tried to confront the Cardassian, but after their brief, and unproductive, conversation Odo was feeling no more at ease. He never took station gossip at face value, but in the same way he was unable to ignore it.  
What could the Cardassian be planning to do with the doctor? As the head MD, Bashir was one of the command officers, but was not given much risky information if it had nothing to do with health or the medical side of things. If the Cardassian was after Federation secrets, then he will be sorely mistaken to be sweet-talking Bashir. 

Odo sneakily observed their lunches together for a couple weeks – finding excuses to stand in the replimat or consistently patrol outside – before caving in. Odo understood the desire for privacy and he knew that his shapeshifting bothered many people, but he swore that he only used it when he felt that the station’s security was in question. 

Odo reasoned that this was one such time.

Before either the Doctor or Garak were due to appear, Odo went to their normal table, hid the flower and vase behind the nearby beam and went to replace the missing center piece. Shortly after Odo got comfortable as the flower and vase he heard the voice of Bashir, he was chatting with Garak as they walked into the replimat. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying until they brought their lunches to the table and sat. 

“ – and then Chief O’Brien came in again today. He had ignored my warnings and went whitewater rafting in the holosuites only to return to the infirmary with a dislocated shoulder. Again.”

“Mr. O’Brien sounds like a poor patient. I believe there is a way for you to use your status as his physician to ensure that Quark could not allow him to use that program.”

“I couldn’t do that. The Chief has been acting distant lately and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” Odo saw Bashir make a comically pouty face clearly to hide the fact that he was actually hurt. Solids put too much emphasis on ‘friendship’ and what others think.

“My dear, if that is the case you could simply have a conversation with the man.”

“You know what? I think that you are continuing this conversation to distract me from the discussion we were going to have on Don Quixote.” There was a long, deep sigh from the Cardassian. 

“You can hardly blame me. I mean, where do I start with this one? The main character is ridiculous. He plays the fool while running across the country spouting nonsense about chivalry and knighthood, but does nothing to actually contribute to society. Where is the honor in such actions?”

“Some people said that he was only seen as insane because he was living in a time when those values were not in fashion. However, I like to think that Cervantes was trying to say that the individual could be in the right while the society or state is wrong.” At that Odo turned his attention to the Cardassian, knowing that that was going to irk the man. If he had been in his right mind, he would have chided himself for slightly rustling his leaves. However, that was not at the forefront of his mind. To his disbelief Garak was smiling? 

Odo was not a man who was easily surprised and he was proud of this fact. In all actuality, he didn’t really trust surprises, especially if it adds validity to gossip. By the nature of the small station, Odo heard plenty of rumors that were so outrageous that he could ignore it at face value, but every so often information can be correct. And it was beginning to look like the folks with their betting pool at Quark’s may be onto something. 

“So let me get this straight, you’re telling me that a man who was so insane that he attacked windmills because he thought that they were giants, was a genuine hero? Doctor, I disagree. He simply read too many stories and let them get to his head. He wasn’t even part of the correct social level to be considered a ‘noble’ knight. And don’t even get me started on individuality versus the whole of the state.” Watching the pair up close made it clear to the Constable what was going on and he suddenly wished that he had not wasted his time. 

Their arguing went on for 63 minutes – not that Odo was counting – before they got up to leave. Immediately after the two men had turned the corner Odo went back to his normal appearance. He must have let his increased grumpiness show – perhaps it was the deep grimace or the harrumphing – since everyone gave him a wide breadth as he stalked back to his office. 

He had spent an entire hour listening to the Cardassian and Doctor flirting! He shook his head thinking that he would never understand solids and their odd mating rituals. There was no real reason for the Constable to have spied on them and that almost made Odo feel guilty. Almost. 

Odo leaned back in his seat recalling the scene that he had watched. On the outside it may not seem very threatening, however, this is the probable Cardassian spy attempting to seduce the station’s Head MD. While Odo could not care any less about their possible relationship, he did care about the safety of the station. 

With his decision made, Odo left his office and headed towards Ops to speak with Commander Sisko. 

\-- 

The sound of his com badge woke him from a most delightful dream and he just barely saved Kukalaka from his nosedive off of the bed as he dove to answer the call. 

*chirp* “Sisko to Bashir.”

“Bashir.”

“Doctor, I hope that I didn’t take you away from anything important.” Bashir bit the inside of his cheek to keep back the snide comment about interrupting his important sleep schedule. Somehow he felt that it was not wise to snap at his Commanding officer. 

“Er, no, not at all, sir.”

“Good. I would like you to report to my office at 0700.” Bashir looked at the clock and scurried out of bed. To meet the Commander on time he would need to skip the shower and just get dressed. 

“Yes, sir! I will be there!”

“Good. Sisko out.” 

Julian stood rigidly in the turbolift to Ops. What could Sisko want to talk about this early in the morning? What if he is unsatisfied with my work and is going to have me transferred? And I was just starting to make the station my home – found my favorite restaurant, coffee shop, and started to make a few friends. It was convenient that two of those happened to coincide. 

Stop it Bashir! This is not the time to be daydreaming, so wipe that stupid grin off of your face!

Julian strode to Sisko’s door trying to carry himself with some confidence, but as soon as the doors slid open his shoulders slightly slouched as he slumped into the room. He felt like he was back in elementary school standing in front of the principal’s desk. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Sisko was playing with his baseball and continued to fiddle with it as he spoke. 

“Ah yes. Take a seat, Doctor.” Julian cautiously sat in the indicated chair. “You may not know this about me, but I try to make a point of not involving myself with my crew and what they choose to do off duty. That is unless their leisure activities pose a potential risk to my station.” Sisko paused and stared at the Doctor expectantly, but all he received was an extremely perplexed Bashir.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think that I quite follow. What leads you to believe that I am in any shape or form threatening the security of this station?” Bashir’s mind was moving a mile a minute, examining his entire stay on the station up to this point.

“Constable Odo brought me some very interesting news concerning you and our resident Cardassian that could cause me trouble.” 

“Garak? What about him? I know that I go to his coffee shop pretty often and we have a weekly lunch together, but I can’t possibly see how any of that would affect anyone else.” Bashir shifted in his seat. How convenient that he was now talking to his superior about his . . . friend? 

“Come now, Doctor. Odo spent plenty of time around Cardassians during the Occupation to recognize . . . ” Sisko was visibly uncomfortable with the conversation as he began playing with his baseball again. “flirting when he sees it. Are you and Mr. Garak having an affair or not?” Julian just about burst into laughter. He sometimes wished that they were a thing and he may have been daydreaming about it, but he never thought that it could happen. Sisko must be playing a trick on poor, hopeful Julian. 

“I can assure you that we are not participating in any activities of the sort, but I will let you know if anything changes. Is that all, sir?” Julian couldn’t stop the smile that appeared when he thought about him and Garak.

“Am I to take that to mean that you want something to happen?” Sisko shook his head slightly. “Oh never mind. That has nothing to do with me. You’re free to go.” Bashir stood up to leave when Sisko’s deep voice sounded again, “Doctor, tread carefully. While I have no say in the issue, I would hate to have your performance to suffer if the man is not as he seems.” 

Julian stared at his commanding officer with a mixture of surprise and appreciation. 

“I will keep that in mind, sir. I may appear to be a naive kid, but I have some idea of what I’m doing, but thank you for your concern.” Sisko nodded and went back to the padds scattered on his desk.  
Julian practically skipped out of the office into Ops where he ran directly into Constable Odo, who simply grumbled in response to Julian’s greeting.

“Good morning, Constable! I would like to commend you for your expert observations. It has certainly helped me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get some tea. I rushed here and neglected breakfast.” Julian barely stopped to speak with Odo before he was on the move once more. 

Odo grouchily muttered something about solids and went back to work. 

Julian hopped out of the turbolift before it even stopped at the main level of the Promenade. He knew that he probably looked like a ridiculous, giddy schoolboy, but he didn’t care at this particular point in time. He was on a mission and nothing would stand in his way. He strolled into Deep Space Brew and went right up to the counter. Garak poked his head up from behind the counter – he must have been restocking or something – and raised one of his eye ridges. 

“Ah Doctor! You are here unusually early. I do hope that everything is alright?” Garak stood up from his crouch and stretched his back – he must have been down there for a while – and Julian almost lost his train of thought right then and there. He blinked a few times to get his mind back in working order. 

“Er, yes, yes of course everything is fine. Certainly nothing that would make the station crumble. I had to skip breakfast to have a surprise meeting with Commander Sisko, so I would gratefully appreciate a Tarkalean Tea – ”

“Extra sweet. Yes, I know your usual, Doctor.” Garak smirked and turned to start brewing Julian’s tea. “I wonder what the Commander could want so early in the morning. If I remember correctly, you typically start your shift an hour or so from now.” Julian grinned at the barista. Of course he knows Julian’s schedule, that is, if Odo was right about the Cardassian.

“Oh it was a rather interesting conversation. In fact, it actually concerned you.”

“Me? Now what would you have to say about an old Cardassian barista?” Garak set the timer and turned to Julian with mock shock on his face. Julian smiled at him and leaned on his elbows on the counter. There was always something physically between the two – a table or a counter – and Julian had never been more frustrated with an inanimate object in his life. 

“Evidently Constable Odo has been increasingly curious about our lunches and has even been observing us closely.” He noticed that Garak’s smile wavered ever so slightly and his innocent blinking became more rapid. He knew that Garak could see where this was going. “Odo reported to Sisko because he was concerned about the security of Federation information since he recognized certain – intimate jesters, at least in Cardassian society.” 

Julian noted that he had never seen Garak look so anxious, but then that was probably according to the barista’s plan. Garak’s eyes darted around the shop, noticing that the patrons were far enough away that there was no chance of eavesdropping, he placed his hands on the counter and leaned in marginally. His eyes were narrowed and sharp as he looked directly into Julian’s eyes.

“Now, I may not know exactly what was discussed, but I can assure you that –” The barista was cutoff when Julian calmly let his right hand fall from his face to gently rest on top of one of Garak’s. Julian’s grin grew at the smug thought that he was able to stop the chatty Cardassian mid-sentence. 

“I must admit, Garak, that I would be lying if I said that I had never thought about such matters before. Although, I certainly enjoy the idea that it wasn’t just me who was interested.” Julian moved Garak’s hand so that their palms touched. “Sisko did not go into much detail about cultural differences in flirting, unfortunately. But I suppose that means that I will have to find a reliable resource.” 

Garak opened his mouth to respond, but the three dings of his tea timer went off. He coughed and turned to shut the timer off and grab Julian’s cup of tea. Julian has had plenty of time to watch the little rituals that Garak had when preparing drinks and so, naturally, he took note that the usual grace – that appears to be so natural – was slightly off kilter. The Cardassian turned around to find Julian wearing an enormous shit eating grin causing him to frown in return.

The tea was firmly set on the counter with a determined thud. Julian watched the Cardassian over the rim of his cup as he tipped it up. Garak seemed to have regained a portion of his composure while he was finishing preparing Julian’s tea.

“I may not be the most ‘reliable resource’, however I am positive that I would be able to clarify any questions you had should any arise during the course of your research.”

“Should I bring paper to take notes on?” Garak’s eyes had a sparkle in them that Julian had never seen before, but he certainly hoped to see it again.

“My dear Doctor, I don’t think that that would be necessary. I know you to be a quick learner and I have the utmost faith in your abilities.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Julian’s confident smirk faltered for a second. “My shift starts soon, so, er, yeah see you around.” Julian – who had, up to this point, been extremely calm and collected – stuttered and stumbled out of the coffee shop.

So much for holding the upper hand. He berated himself the entire walk across the Promenade to the medical bay. This will be a fun shift.

Later that night:

“Okay. So that was successful enough, but now what?” 

Silence.

“If you decided to gain sentience and had an opinion on this matter that would be extremely helpful right about now.” 

Silence.

Julian sighed and turned away from his bed where Kukalaka sat unmoving and unspeaking. For what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes Julian ran his left hand through his hair in frustration.  
“If it is true that we have mutual. . .feelings, then shouldn’t this become easier? Just ask him to go out on a date?” He could feel his face heat up at the last word. “Er, maybe start with hanging out separate from our normal times?” 

Still no comments from Kukalaka. 

“Augh!” This time both hands ruffled his hair as he fell onto his bed. “How old am I again? This is ridiculous. . . Tomorrow I will go into his shop, confidently stride up to the counter, and along with my tea I will ask him out. Like an adult!” He grabbed his bear and snuggled under the covers. Just like an adult.

\--

*chirp* “Jabara to Bashir.”

*chirp* “Jabara to Bashir.”

*chirp* “Doctor Bashir.”

This was not the way that Julian had wanted to walk up today. He groggily sat up and hit his com badge. 

“Bashir. How can I help, Nurse Jabara?”

“About time that you answered, Doctor. You were supposed to be here for your shift 25 minutes ago.” 

“Wa—what?” He found his clock and glared. She was, of course, correct. I guess I’ll have to skip my shower. Again. Hopefully he won’t be too offensive to other people’s senses. “I am so sorry! I am on my way!”  
He jumped out of bed and into one of his uniforms, fastening it up as he ran out of his quarters. Not that he really had time to stop for anything, but he did rationalize that he could stop in and get a quick breakfast from Deep Space Brew. After all he would be useless if he was too hungry. 

The doors to the café seemed to be opening slower than Bashir was expecting as he whacked his shoulder against it, making a rather booming thud sound. Garak looked up from the counter at the odd noise and he smirked. Even with how rushed the doctor was, he could still see the hint of a genuine smile underneath his mask.

“Why, doctor, what has you in such a flustered state this morning?”

“Garak, I would seriously love to stand here and banter, however, I am running late for work and I need my tea and some sort of food.” Julian was practically resting all of his weight on the counter between the two of them. The barista raised his eye ridges in interest before turning to start steeping the desperate man’s tea. 

“In that case, what kind of food would you care for then?” 

“By any chance do you have something like a muffin?”

“I do have ‘something like a muffin.’ We, in the business, call them muffins.” If Julian wasn’t a flustered, rushed mess right now he would have been able to actually appreciate the condescending, lovely smirk that the Cardassian was wearing. Instead he was too busy anxiously watching the clock and shifting between his feet. 

“Yeah, whatever. That will work great.” He grabbed the offered muffin from the scaly outstretched hand and in the next movement snatched his tea from the counter where it had just been set. “Thanks, Garak! I owe you!” 

Julian hurried out the door taking a sip as he went leaving the barista standing there grumbling something about no payment. 

By the time Bashir had made it to the med bay, he was officially 41 minutes late. Not that anyone was counting. The doors swished open and he was greeted with a grumpy Jabara standing with her arms crossed in front of her. He swallowed the last bite of his muffin, which he really didn’t get the chance to taste as he had shoved it down his gullet. 

“Er, good morning, Nurse Jabara. Um, sorry about being so late.” Julian nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Jabara raised an eyebrow before turning on her heel and stalking back into the main room of the med bay. 

His shift, blessedly, went by fairly quickly. Although, he spent a good portion of it trying not to further aggravate his head nurse. To make up for being late, Julian worked through lunch, cranked out a paper for a Starfleet medical journal, and saw to most of the walk-ins, on top of the scheduled appointments that he already had. By the time that the poor doctor was walking out of the med bay, he had developed a rather persistent headache. To top it off, as the doors were closing behind Bashir he overheard a couple of his nurses: 

“Jabara was practically grinning like a cat who caught a canary as she watched the doctor run around today.”

“I think she got a real kick out of that.” 

His shoulders slumped down as he sighed. I guess that’s what happens when you’re almost an hour late to your shift. However, I thought that I was supposed to be in charge of them. Then why am I the one who is being manipulated? 

It was at this moment that Julian’s head perked up. “Oh shit! I never paid this morning!” He began to jog to the café. 

The doors slid open for the exhausted doctor to slip between and make his way up to the counter for the second time that day. Surprisingly Julian noted that there were more people here than he would have expected at 1700 hours, but he wouldn’t complain. That means that Garak would have more customers and sales. He was brought back from space by someone clearing their throat. 

It was, of course, the man himself.

“Ah, oh. Hey there, Garak.” Bashir shuffled his feet nervously under the icy stare that the barista was directing at him. He glanced around the café as if anyone there would know how to save him from the upset Cardassian. 

“So, I’m sorry that I rushed off this morning before I paid my – ”

“Ah! So I should have expected payment for my services? Is that how running a business works?”

“Well you don’t have to be a jerk about it. I apologized and was just about to say that I was here to pay my bill.”

“I wonder if I should accept this offer or if I should enforce some sort of punishment.” Julian’s headache began to spread as he questioned if pursing a relationship with his Cardassian friend was wise. Either way, he felt like it was only the beginning of his headaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that it's been more than a month now since I last posted. . . I'm going to blame the holidays.


	5. Learning to Espresso my Feelings

*chirp* “It is now 0530”

Garak slightly cracked open one bleary eye to look toward the source of the sound that interrupted his sleep. Rolling around to lay on his back and brought his hands up to his eyes to rub the tiredness out of his eyes. Most days Garak had a rough time getting out of his blessedly warm bed – buried under five blankets in his sauna of a room – but he knew that he had to open the shop by 0600 for his few regular customers.  
Slinking out from under his blankets, Garak padded over to the bathroom to primp. He knew that most people on the station really couldn’t care less about how clean and nice he looked, but in another way, if Garak had let himself go that would be handing over ready-made insults to his enemies and ill-wishers. When surrounded by people who show him nothing but apathy, that is when you need to put your best, well-dressed foot forward. 

Glancing at the computer again, Garak found that, even with his slower responses this morning, he was still on schedule. Garak breathed deeply before opening the door and he shivered as there was a burst of cold air hitting his body. 

And this is why Garak wears thick suits. 

Outfitted in his armor, he stepped out into the battle zone and headed for the Promenade. 

\--

Garak squinted at the computer at the other end of the counter to see “0653” flash back at him and quickly glanced at the door to make sure that he had time. If the young man stuck to his usual timetable, then Garak had at least seven minutes to run to the back and restock. His eyes flicked to the front of the store one more time before he slipped into the backroom. 

He made several trips to and from the counter bringing packages of coffee beans, tea leaves, milk, etc. and without his knowledge he unconsciously checked the door every time he came out. If he had been thinking about keeping up appearances, then he would not have allowed himself to act like a nervous young recruit on his first mission. Realizing how he was behaving made his mind wander, again. Isn’t there an old terran phrase similar to this? Something about a school boy? Yeah something along those lines. 

He heard the tap of a shoe against the base of the counter and startled out of his ramblings. He silently reprimanded himself for letting his guard down to the point of weakness. Spinning around he was greeted by Julian Bashir leaning on the counter and smirking. 

“Ah, good morning, doctor.” Garak’s pride began perking back up when he noticed the way that the man’s eyes followed him as he stepped up to the counter. Because every move that Garak makes is intentional and purposeful, he knew that the way that he just slightly leaned in toward Bashir was as telling as if he had grabbed the man and kissed him. It occasionally made him uncomfortable to imagine how foolish he appeared to others, but then he would see Bashir’s bright, ridiculous toothy grin. 

“And a good morning to you, too, Mister Garak. How has business been so far today?” Bashir continued to full out lean on the counter resting his head in his hands. Now that Garak was right in front of him he had to crane his neck up to lock eyes with the scaly barista. 

“Well, we have had the morning regulars and, this is a nice surprise, eight new people. Several of them had questionable taste, similar to someone else I know, but it is certainly not my place to tell everyone my humble opinion.” Garak smiled down at the doctor.

“Hmmm, speaking of my ‘questionable taste,’” Bashir emphasized this with his eyes roaming up and down. “I would really enjoy a Tarkalean tea – ”

“Extra sweet.” Garak held his gaze for an extra second before setting up the tea. While he always knew what Bashir was going to order and he could have it set up a head of time, he relished the three additional minutes with the man that this afforded him. 

What a foolish, sentimental old man he had become.

Once Garak was back in his spot at the counter, he noticed that there was a slight coloring to Bashir’s face. This made Garak concerned for the man. He knew that doctors have a bad reputation as being poor patients, but he had higher hopes for the man standing in front of him. 

“My dear, are you feeling quite well?” Bashir looked taken aback. 

“Er, what do you mean? I’m perfectly fine.” Bashir’s eyes turned to examine the nearby sugar packets. “I was just wondering if you were wearing a new suit. I don’t remember seeing it before and . . .umm, it looks real good.” 

Garak blinked. 

“Er, yeah. Umm, the red is nice with your. . . scales?” Bashir’s brows furrowed as he continued to play with the sugar packets. Garak was certainly not accustomed to such talk from anyone. Then it dawned on him.

“Ah. Is this the human way of flirting?” Bashir shot straight up and his face appeared to be even more red, which was something Garak did not know was humanly possible. 

“Wha? Ha!” Bashir took a second. “I mean, yeah. It kind of is. It probably isn’t the best example, but . . . yeah.” 

Before Garak could say anything further the alarm on the corner of the counter beeped. Instead of commenting, Garak brought Bashir his tea and set it down in front of him. Bashir reached out to grab the cup from Garak and took the opportunity to settle his hand on Garak’s. The barista knew that that was what he intended, but it didn’t stop the flutter in his chest. 

In the next second, Garak lightly rubbed his finger against Bashir’s palm and their eyes met. Bashir’s mouth was open ever so slightly and he looked back down to the cup now in his hand. Without the lid, it was a miracle that no tea had spilled over the top. 

“Well, Garak, it has been nice to catch up with you. I’ll, uh, see you around.” Bashir tightly snapped the lid on the cup and stumbled out of the café. He didn’t even wait for Garak to say anything. Too be fair, Garak was still staring off into space completely speechless.

When he came back to his senses he scanned the room to make sure no one saw his lapse in judgment. He was surprised and unnerved to see someone approaching him. Of all people, please tell me she didn’t watch that display. 

\--

Keiko was not a regular, per se, but she made a habit of stopping by Deep Space Brew every few days to get the organic waste for compost. Her and Garak had a convenient agreement worked out and because of that they have become sort of friends. At least she liked to think that they were friends. However, she doubted that there were many people who could worm their way under the barista’s scaly armor. 

That’s what she thought before she heard some interesting information floating around the station. Deep Space Nine, like small, rural towns back on Earth, are notorious for having folks congregating to talk about the comings and goings of others. In other words, the station’s inhabitants were terrible gossips. 

Before she had heard about the running betting pool at Quark’s she would not have really given this bit rumor much credence. After all, Quark would never put his latinum at risk for something baseless. 

As she ambled into the café, Keiko was greeted by quite a scene. Mister Garak and Julian were at the counter, but it seemed like there was a lot more going on. Julian was extremely red faced and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. She smirked when she noticed that the Cardassian also couldn’t really keep his eyes off of the human’s neck and shoulders. Garak turned away from the counter to get, what she was assuming was tea, but he appeared to be a little off. Not the usual calm and collected barista. 

When he was passing the cup over to Julian there was a pause and all of a sudden Keiko felt like she was seeing an exchange that she was not supposed to. It felt very intimate to say the least.

Keiko was about to sit at a table to let them have their time, but then Julian rushed out of the room. Keiko blinked in confusion and noticed the spaced out lizard behind the counter. She felt a knowing grin spread across her face as she sauntered up to Garak. 

“Good morning, Mr. Garak. How has your morning been?” She had seen the apprehension on the man’s face as she approached and she couldn’t help but feel like teasing him. Just a little bit. 

“Ah! Mrs. O – Keiko. . . I’m afraid that I don’t have all that much waste for you today.” He looked like he wished he could be hiding in the backroom rather than talking to the botanist. 

“Oh that’s perfectly fine. I was here only a few days ago anyways, so I wasn’t really expecting much. I was actually here to get some coffee.”

“Of course. What kind would you like?”

“Hmmm how about a Bajoran blend? A medium roast, please.” Garak nodded and moved to scoop grounds into the paper filter in the cone. He poured water into the cone and stood there. Keiko noted that he usually would come back over to chat, but not this time. So she went to stand on the other side of the pour over station. 

“So, Mr. Garak, I’m looking into getting some Cardassian plants soon. Which would you suggest?” Garak was noticeably still tense, but at the mention of plants and his home planet, he relaxed a tad. 

“I must admit that I am partial to Edosian Orchids, however, they are a bit persnickety. It may be easier for us to grow Indigo Sunsearchers. Definitely steer clear of the Mekarian Sawtooth, they are messy eaters and we don’t want passersby to be nipped at. Especially, since a nip from one of those can effortlessly take a finger off.” 

“I’m sure that with your knowledge we would be able to handle Edosian Orchids as well as Indigo Sunsearchers.”

“In that case, I think I may know how we could acquire the seeds.”

“That sounds wonderful! Thank you, Mr. Garak. With your help, both in the compost department and with the physical labor, the botanic garden is really shaping up. I can’t wait to take my students there for some hands on experience.” Keiko clasped her hands together and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Not to mention that the entire station will get to enjoy the fruits of our labor! I bet Julian would really love to see it.” 

Garak had been pouring more water into the cone as Keiko rambled, but the last sentence made his hand jerk and splash water on the counter before stiffening. 

“Pardon me?”

“Oh, I know that I have been talking his ear off and he does seem to genuinely like plants, even though he almost killed one of mine when I asked him to plantsit on one of my trips to Bajor.” Uncharacteristically, Garak sighed audibly as he rested a hand against the counter and leaned onto it. 

“Ah, I see what you mean. Yes, I believe Dr. Bashir with his scientific mind would be interested in the potential the garden could have for the well-being of his patients.” He gently lifted the cup out from under the drip cone and handed it over to Keiko with a smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Garak.” Keiko was spinning around to leave, but then turned back to face her friend. “I also think that Julian would like to visit the garden with you. Not that it’s my place, but he does seem to like you. Well, I’ll see you at the garden tonight!” Keiko waved and ran off leaving a stunned Garak behind. 

Now that was too much fun! Plus, she has more proof for Miles.

\--

*chirp* “Jadzia to Bashir”

“Yes, Jadzia.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to meet for lunch? Unless you have other plans. . .” Bashir could hear the teasing nature in the last comment. 

“Er, yeah I can do lunch with you. Replimat or Quark’s or. . .?” 

“How about Quark’s? I bet you’re getting tired of the Replimat.” Julian had a sense of unease. Does she know something? He thought that Garak and him had been fairly subtle. Except for the show this morning. . . Julian’s face felt warm again as he replayed the scene for the umpteenth time since it happened. 

“Julian? You still there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, Quark’s will be great. I’ll see you there in 20 minutes?”

“Cool! See you then!” 

He looked at his computer sitting on the corner of his desk and rubbed his eyes. If he left now, then he would get to Quark’s way too early. Unless he stopped at Garak’s – 

He cut that train of thought quickly. As much as he would like to see him again he needed to keep a level head. Being a Starfleet Officer means that he is a representative of the Federation and should act as such. He stood up from his desk and went out to the main area of the med bay to see what his staff was up to. He spent the next ten minutes or so walking around to catch up with each one of his staffers before deciding to take his lunch break.

Strolling across the Promenade, Julian decided to take the long route from the infirmary to Quark’s for two reasons: one, this gave him a chance to relax before his unexpected lunch with one of the biggest gossips on the station. Two, this meant that he could take the opportunity to go past Deep Space Brew. He will only wave or nod to the owner, nothing else. 

He was getting closer to his second goal, but before he had the chance to get a quick peek of the barista Jadzia popped up next to him. 

“Hey there!” 

“Augh! Jeez! Jadzia!” Julian dramatically put a hand over his heart and stumbled backwards. This elicited a light chuckle from Jadzia as well as hide the actual fear that she had caused him. 

“Ready for lunch?”

“Definitely!” They began walking towards Quark’s. 

“This route seems to be longer than other options. Why did you decide to come this way?” Even though this was posed as a question, Julian was realizing that she knew already and this was some form of gentle ribbing. 

“It has been slow at the infirmary the past few hours and I figured that a walk would be nice stimulation.” While he was facing forward he could still see from the corner of his vision that Jadzia was smirking deviously. “Anyways, what’s with the surprise lunch date?” 

“Oh not much. I just felt like we haven’t had a decent chat recently.” Of course. Now Julian was positive that she knew about his budding relationship with the scaly barista. They turned the corner and entered Quark’s. 

“Good afternoon! Are you two here for lunch or a little mid-day gambling?” The small stature of Quark bounced over to stand in front of the bar near the two officers. 

“As tempting as a good game of dabo would be we do need to get back to work eventually, so we will stick with lunch. We’ll seat ourselves. Thanks, Quark.” They hunted down a secluded table in the back on the second floor of Quark’s. Not long after, Nog stumbled by with their food.

“Okay. I have a decent idea of what is going on and I will tell you now that I will not spill my guts about this to anyone.” Jadzia feigned offence and leaned back in her chair.

“You think that I had some ulterior motive for hanging out with a friend?”

“Yes. You and Morn are the center of gossip on the station. I don’t want everyone to know when I barely understand what’s going on myself.” Julian’s shoulders slumped as he leaned forward to rest his arms on the  
table between them. 

“Oh, Julian. I’m serious. I have no intention of sharing anything with people, I was concerned about you. How are you doing?” 

“I mean, I’m fine, physically, mentally, but I have absolutely no clue how to do this. Jadzia, how do you get someone like him to open up? How do I know that he isn’t just humoring me?” He frowned and focused on picking his hangnails as an unusual silence hung between the station’s two chattiest people. Julian just barely broke the hush with his practically-inaudible question, “What if he doesn’t like the real me, but the idea of me?”

Jadzia patted his folded hands, knowing her it was not supposed to patronizing, but Julian was not feeling up for any sympathy in such trying times. He normally was much more cautious about the type of mask that he wears in front of others and he almost immediately regretted what he let slip there. He has carefully crafted his outward appearance of the naïve-greenhorn cadet to the point where people believe and expect that kind of response. 

“Julian, I saw the interaction this morning. He is not ‘just humoring’ you.” Julian returned his focus down to his hands on the table where they were much more still than a few seconds previously. 

“Er – you were there?” Jadzia grinned and took a bite of her sandwich.

“Oh yeah! It was precious, but you guys should probably be a bit more cautious. I am absolutely supportive of your relationship – along with a good portion of the station if the betting pool is an accurate representation – but I doubt that everyone will be in love with the idea.”

“Especially the Federation. I don’t think that it has passed anyone’s notice that he is Cardassian at a time when it’s not exactly the most popular thing to be. Oh man! How did I work my way into this mess?” Julian rubbed his forehead with the palm of his right hand and groaned. 

“I wish that I had some sort of magical wisdom to pass on to you that would solve your problems, but seeing as everyone’s situation is different then I guess you should just do what you think is appropriate? You seem to be doing a fine job as it is.” Jadzia winked at Julian’s perplexed expression causing his cheeks to turn pink. He was surprised that he wasn’t getting a third degree burn from how much blushing he had been doing this morning alone. 

Pursuing this relationship was most definitely not the best for his health.

\--

The late afternoon crowd was slowly clearing out onto the Promenade as Garak was busy wiping the recently vacated tables and tucking chairs back into place. This was one of his favorite parts of the day, when people are shifting from work to leisure and the station seemed a little laxer. Not to mention that after his ritual of closing, Garak would be able to join in on the frivolities. While he isn’t ever actually invited out, Garak could usually be found out and about appearing to be enjoying the alone time. 

Or that was how it was supposed to look like.

In all actuality, he had the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. He had hoped that the cold, inhospitable station would numb him to this constant sensation, however, the ever-present heat of hatred and suspicion that boxed him in on all sides kept him from truly fading into the bulkheads. It’s not like he had been the most popular man on Cardassia Prime, but with the reputation and connections that he had, he was at least treated with respect. 

Unlike in exile.

His dreary thoughts were blessedly interrupted by the shop doors whooshing open, allowing entrance for the ray of sunshine in his otherwise dark existence on the station. Garak rolled his eyes at how dreadfully clichéd his meditations ended on. If the intention of his banishment here was to weaken him then it may have been working a bit too well if his current predicament was any indication. 

“Ah, Doctor, as always it is a pleasure to see you. Even though I was attempting to close for the evening.” He raised a cocky eye ridge as he flicked his gaze up from the table to the man standing in the middle of the room. 

“Er, yeah sorry about that. I suppose that if you really wished me to get out of your hair then I could do just that.” Bashir paused, clearly leading to something else. “Unless, you may be amenable to joining me for dinner? I have heard good things about the Klingon restaurant, although I’ve never been.” 

Garak swept to the next table to tidy up and prepare for opening tomorrow morning. He kept his head down and his voice steady despite his mind and pulse going a mile a minute. 

“As pleasant as that sounds, I, regrettably, am already committed to assisting Mrs. O’Brien in the botanical garden. I’m actually due there in a matter of minutes.” From his peripherals, Garak could see Bashir’s shoulders slump down ever so slightly. Barely skipping a beat, “However, if you would like to accompany me, it more than likely will not take an appreciable amount of time. You would be able to see how far we have come along on the project and then we could move on to Kaga’s Klingon Kitchen.” Bashir began to grin like a buffoon, but Garak felt he had no place to tease seeing as he was hardly able resist the miniscule, yet noticeable, smile that was spreading across his face.

“If that isn’t an inconvenience for you?” He seemed to be clarifying, but at the same time he perched on one of the stools at the counter. 

“Not at all, my dear. In fact, I was just talking to Keiko about you getting a glimpse of the greenhouse.”

“Oh? You’ve been talking to others about me? Mr. Garak, that sounds awfully presumptuous.” Bashir feigned shock, but let a small smirk sneak on his face. 

Garak circled around the man, still perched on his stool, as he went behind the counter to begin the lock down system. He punched in the first code before swiftly striding to the door. As he passed by the doctor he gently grabbed his elbow and guided him out of the café. Once they were both standing on the Promenade, Garak turned to face the second key pad to enter the final code. He knows that it seems silly to have two separate security systems, however, he can’t help but be cautious. 

After all, who knows who may want to plant a bomb or some other trap in his shop?

With the happy little chirp of confirmation from the system signaling that the shop was locked, the scaly barista briskly stalked towards the botanical garden. He didn’t have to look to know that Bashir was quickly running to catch up to him after he shook off the confusion of being left in the figurative dust. 

Hearing his indignant tiny huff next to him – signaling that Bashir was now matching his stride – caused a sly smile to stretch across the scaly barista’s face. 

The two leisurely strolled across the Promenade towards the hanger bay turned garden. They were close enough that every once in a while their fingers would lightly brush the other’s. When they arrived outside the botanical garden the doors flew open and Keiko practically barreled through the two men who were innocently standing there. 

“Oh my! Mr. Garak! I’m so sorry for running you and – Julian?” The frazzled woman stopped short when she noticed that Garak was not alone as per usual. Her eyes kept flicking between the two before landing on the Cardassian. “Ah – well, either way – ummm, feel free to show Julian around. I was just summoned to Commander Sisko’s for something? I have no idea what we have left to talk about in regards of the garden, but whatever!” She shrugged and shook her hair so that her long, straight hair swung around her shoulders. Her sharp gaze towards Garak said, “you are filling me in on this new development later” before she spun on her heels and sped off towards the turbo lift that lead up to ops. 

Garak and Bashir stood in place, blinking their eyes as they watched the woman practically sprint away from them. There was a low rumble from beside Garak that almost made the man jump. He slowly swiveled his head to glance at the young man who was barely containing his laughter at this point. The barista raised his eye ridge in response to the terran’s reaction. 

“Perhaps Quark does have somethings right about you humans.” He scratched his chin scales while his eyes drifted off to the side away from Bashir. That shut the doctor up fairly quickly as the man frowned and huffed. 

“Hey! Now, what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Garak?” The barista shrugged, spun on his heels, and sauntered through the doors. Bashir trailed behind with his arms crossed in front of his chest. However, upon entering the space the doctor’s eyes went wide and his arms fell to his sides as he took in the scene.

The station was a perfect example of the classical Cardassian architectural period with the preferred symmetry of sweeping crescent moons to full circles. The cold metal and dark colors made for an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Somehow this feeling was intensified with the brighter level of the lights that the Federation put in place. 

However, this hanger bay was completely transformed. It would not be considered all that close to being completed, at least according to Garak and Keiko’s grand scheme, but it was clearly coming along quite nicely. The frigid metallics of the room had been overshadowed by the lush greenery growing and filling in the space. You would be challenged to find a color missing from the bay, especially with the various shades of green present. 

Upon surveying the fruits of their labor – in some cases, literally so – Garak was struck by how fulfilled and proud he was of their accomplishments. He had never really thought that he would have grown to care about anything on this godforsaken station. And yet he found himself standing in the middle of the garden that he had been working on alongside a friend – were they friends? – standing next to the intoxicating man who he can’t seem to shake off. 

Life certainly had a sense of humor.

“Holy shit.” 

“How eloquent of you, my dear.” 

“Garak, this is – this is beyond words.” 

Normally, Garak would have made some sort of snarky comment to tease the man, but he let the words disappear among the dense foliage and flowers. Instead he silently snuck up to Bashir’s side – he was pleased to note that the other man had not noticed the movement in the slightest. The warmth radiating off of his body mixed with the smell – the smell that was quintessentially Bashir – and was engulfing the scaly barista’s body and mind. He had not even registered the movement of his own hand as it unhurriedly reached out to rest his palm flush against Bashir’s. After a few seconds his mind kicked back into gear and he tried to retract his hand only to feel warm, firm resistance as Bashir snuck his fingers between Garak’s. 

It was at moments like this when Garak was glad to have had the extreme training of the Order to assist in schooling the wave of emotions that he was currently feeling. First, he got his breathing under control – back down from the ridiculous speeds that they had reached. Second, he stood up more, straightening his back to put the brakes on the shivers that were running amok along his spine. There was no way that Bashir knew how intimate this act happened to be in Cardassian culture. He had noted that many humans were fond of physical touch even among non-significant others. The thing that bothered Garak the most were such odd customs as shaking hands upon first meetings. 

But now was not the time to be rambling about terran culture. Not when he had the full attention of the attractive, intellectual man. 

“My dear, not that I want to appear too forward, however, would you care to – take a tour of the garden?” There was a slight coloring along Garak’s cheeks as he promptly regretted such a cheesy suggestion. Yet, as he stole a furtive glance at the man, he noticed that he had bowed his head in an obvious attempt to hide the blush that had covered his entire face.

“Ah – I would re – really enjoy that.” He used his unoccupied right hand to partially cover his face. “I don’t know what has come over me! I’m usually much calmer than this . . . in situations such as this, at least.” Garak let a low chuckle escape as he gently pulled Bashir along with him into the green space. 

“Dr. Bashir – ”

“Julian.” There was a noticeable hesitation in the Cardassian’s step, but Bashir kept them moving along the winding path. “I think that by this point you could use my first name. In fact, I honestly would prefer that. At least when we are alone.”

They were about halfway through the botanical garden and he couldn’t help but notice the increased heart rate that no amount of training would regulate. 

“Ah, my dear, you may not be aware of the intricacies of Cardassian ritual, however, to use one’s first name – well, it’s – it is uncomfortable.” 

“There’s no rush.” This was hardly spoken above a whisper, but in the small, empty space it seemed to speak volumes. He stared at their entangled fingers as he used his thumb to outline one of the scales along the outside of Garak’s hand. 

A peaceful quiet continued through the rest of their tour. Both men simply appreciated the other’s constant, reassuring contact. Not only had they received permission to increase the heat in the green house, but with the warmth of the terran, Garak was practically purring. He was beginning to feel spoiled. They had reached the doors and began to cross the threshold, reluctantly dropping each other’s grip. There was no reason to broadcast their burgeoning relationship. 

Garak reached out his left arm, indicating that they should return to the Promenade to continue to Kaga’s Klingon Kitchen. 

The two men were passing by bustling, noisy Quark’s when Garak mumbled, “I will endeavor to do so.” 

There was a soft brush against his shoulder and when he looked over he found that endearing, dorky grin playing on Julian’s face. 

“That means a lot to me. Thank you, Garak.” The barista bowed his head to avoid the bright, brown eyes of his companion. 

If this was what it was like to attempt to court a terran, then perhaps this won’t be as easy as the Cardassian had originally imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently started a full time job so I have been extremely busy, hence why this is so late. And the next updates will probably continue to do so. . .  
> Anywho, comments are always welcome! 
> 
> Also, there will be some added conflict in the next chapter :)


End file.
